


in this quiet place i can give you all my time

by cryptidkidprem



Series: all of my time in the world (i want you to be my one) [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Footnotes, Love, M/M, Marriage, Morning After, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, literally guys it's just so fucking soft i cannot handle it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkidprem/pseuds/cryptidkidprem
Summary: “We’re married,” Crowley says, trying the words out on his tongue, marveling at it.“We are,” Aziraphale agrees, “I remember. I was there.”“You’re myhusband.”“And you’re mine.”Crowley grins. “You’re really ssstuck with me now.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: all of my time in the world (i want you to be my one) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563565
Comments: 73
Kudos: 343





	in this quiet place i can give you all my time

**Author's Note:**

> i genuinely think this is the softest thing i've ever written. it was so soft i almost couldn't finish it but w/ all the terribleness of the horrid 1992 script getting leaked i decided we all need some sickeningly sweet content right now. it's rated t because there's like one sentence that mentions sex so i thought i'd play it safe.
> 
> inspo for this fic's entire existence and title comes from 'sunkissed' by khai dreams. i would recommend popping over to listen to that song asap.

In the morning, Crowley wakes feeling warm all over.

For a moment, it’s just that. He exists in a hazy middle space between sleep and waking without much tangibility. It’s like his brain’s reading the input from his senses and not connecting it to anything yet, so all het gets is warm, soft, cozysafe _warm_.

He smiles, just a little, before he can help it. Crowley’s whole world, in that moment, is made of gold; everything just feels warm. He shifts in order to burrow deeper into the blankets, chasing as much comfort as he can, and the rustling of fabric when the duvet shifts around him is what finally catches him up with reality.

In a second, Crowley goes from boneless to still and rigid as a statue.

Crowley forgets to breathe, squeezes his eyes tighter shut. For a second, he’s convinced _Yesterday_ has to have been some kind of dream. It’s been two years and too many _I love you_ ’s for Crowley to even try to count, but even now it hardly seems real. Two years up against six-thousand is barely the blink of an eye when you think about it, so sometimes it’s still… hard to believe.

Slowly, cautiously, like he’ll shatter something if he so much as moves wrong, Crowley lets his breath out and peeks one eye open.

His first thought is: _bright_.

There’s an east-facing window on Crowley’s side of the room in the cottage, and the morning sunlight hits him right in the face. He frowns and blinks against it until his eyes adjust, the bedroom coming gradually into focus around him.

Slowly, Crowley looks down to his left hand, resting by his face on his pillow.

He shifts his fingers, and the sun catches on the metal bands wrapped snugly around his ring finger. Crowley almost loses his breath again.

So that’s it, then. It wasn’t a dream, or his imagination. _Yesterday_ really did happen.

(It flashes through Crowley mind now: A simple ceremony at the local courthouse with a justice of the peace[*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#note1) and a few words exchanged. A small reception in their back garden, with a handful of guests.[**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#note2) There’d been a lovely marquee strung up with lights and flowers they grew themselves, a make-shift dance floor, champagne under the summer sunset, and outstanding catering.

All and all, it had been a lovely little party, but Crowley’d spent most of the evening off to the side curled up in Aziraphale’s lap with his face hidden against his neck, completely overcome with love despite his best efforts and Aziraphale’s soothing hands running up and down his spine.)

All that love comes back to him in a rush, a wave crashing over him and sucking him under, bubbling up in his throat and threatening to overwhelm him all over again.

He suddenly can’t take it anymore, and he rolls over in bed. Aziraphale, bless his stupid perfect bastard heart, is already awake and looking back at Crowley.

Crowley’s eyes lock on Aziraphale’s, and he doesn’t need to be an angel to feel all the love that's currently clutching at his lungs and making his eyes prickle reflected right back at him.

Viper-quick, Crowley snags Aziraphale’s left hand between both of his own and pulls it up to his face. He holds on, runs his fingers around the metal of Aziraphale’s own rings, twisting them on Aziraphale’s finger, studying them like he’s never seen them before.

The first is a simple silver wedding band that matches Crowley’s own. Below that is a less-simple engagement ring Crowley gave him half a year ago. This one’s a bit trickier to describe; Crowley pulled it from the same place inside him he used to pull galaxies and nebulae from, its atoms matching the cores of distant stars. It’s a bit like opal, if opal moved around like an open fire.

Crowley swallows. He traces his index finger along the metal of each, then presses his palm flat against Aziraphale’s until his own rings[***](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#note3) _clink_ against them.

Crowley can’t hope to contain it; he smiles, wide and probably unbearably soft. He slots his fingers between Aziraphale’s and latches on, scooching closer and stealing a kiss. (His corporation wouldn’t dare get morning breath, thank you very fucking much.)

Aziraphale indulges him until he’s ready to pull away, which he does reluctantly and only so he can get a good luck at what is, in his totally unbiased opinion, the most beautiful face to ever exist on this earth.

“Well,” Aziraphale mumbles softly, “good morning to you, too.”

“I love you,” Crowley says. “And. Er. Morning.”

Aziraphale laughs gently. “Oh. I love you, too,” he tells Crowley, brushing his cheek with the hand Crowley hasn’t currently got in a death grip in a near-reverent touch.

“Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale asks, sliding his fingers up to card through Crowley’s hair, combing it back off his forehead.

Crowley’s eyelids flutter; he really likes it when Aziraphale does that. “Like the dead, angel,” he murmurs.

After the reception had ended and everyone had left, he and Aziraphale had stumbled into their bedroom, half-drunk on champagne and each other, and made very thorough and enthusiastic love well into the night. Crowley’s a bit surprised he didn’t just sleep right through to the 22nd century.

Aziraphale hums. “Or like a very sleepy, but quite _living_ demon,” he corrects.

Crowley huffs. “Sure, yeah,” he allows. Okay, not like the dead. He gets that. It’s been two years and Crowley’s heart still races whenever he sees so much as a candle.

Crowley stares at Aziraphale, awash in soft morning sunlight and practically glowing with happiness, and wonders how it’s possible that he’s still falling more and more in love with him everyday. He exhales slowly, rests his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, Aziraphale’s perfect fingers massaging his scalp. That feeling of cozywarmsafe hasn’t gone away.

“We’re married,” Crowley says, trying the words out on his tongue, marveling at it.

“We are,” Aziraphale agrees, “I remember. I was there.”

“You’re my _husband_.”

“And you’re mine.”

Crowley grins. “You’re really ssstuck with me now.”

“As if I would ever dream of having it any other way,” Aziraphale tells him, exasperated and fond in equal measures. “My dear love, I don’t plan on ever letting you go without on Hell of a fight.”

“In that case,” Crowley muses, slipping one hand free and looping it around Aziraphale’s chest, “I might just stay right here ‘till we leave for Berlin.”[****](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#note4)

Another laugh, golden and beautiful, arms tightening around Crowley and holding him close. “By all means, dear. I’ve nowhere to be, do what you must.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Crowley murmurs against the warm skin of Aziraphale’s neck.

“Oh, but I’m getting quite good at it, don’t you think?” Aziraphale says into Crowley’s hair, before kissing the top of his head.

Crowley bites at his lower lip, but his goofy grin won’t be contained so easily. “Will it offend your angelic pride if I tell you you’ve _always_ been good at it?”

Aziraphale hums noncommittally. “Well, we are _married_ now, so I suppose it’s not all that scandalous.”

“No, I don’t mean— I mean, well. Yeah, okay, that too, but.” Crowley lifts his head, just enough to peek up at Aziraphale. “Whenever you’re around — or, or even when you’re not, really — it’s just like. All I wanna do is be close to you. It’s bloody _distracting_.”

“Mm. The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you.”

“You’re like. Um.” Crowley shakes his head. “You’re my, my other half. Really. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Aziraphale tilts Crowley’s chin up, holds his face between both his hands, holds Crowley’s gaze. “As I have just said, Crowley, I’m not about to be parted from you should I have _any_ say in the matter.”

Crowley wants to hide again, but Aziraphale’s holding him firm. Anyway, what is there to hide from? This is the safest place he could be in the whole universe.

“Angel,” he says, “honey. Love. kiss me.”

And Aziraphale does, without hesitation and with a fond smile to boot.

When he pulls back, Crowley sighs contentedly and slumps against his side, smile now just camping out on his face. It helps that Aziraphale is wearing a matching smile as he looks back at Crowley.

“You know,” Aziraphale says, “I think you might be onto something. I would certainly not object to staying with here with you all day.”

Crowley’s smile morphs into more of a grin. “Hah, see? I’m still plenty good at tempting you, too.”

“Ah, yes, quite the temptation. Convincing me to have a lie in with my new husband on a very fine morning. Quite devious of you.”

“Mhmm. Proper evil, me,” Crowley says as he snuggles closer against Aziraphale.

“Oh, indeed,” Aziraphale returns, and Crowley does not miss the gentle teasing in his voice. It’s fine; he somehow can’t find it in himself to care. Anything that keeps that smile on Aziraphale’s face, that warm feeling in Crowley’s chest, is decidedly okay by him.

He thinks, briefly, he really _could_ stay like this forever. And then, chasing that thought, he remembers that he actually _can_. Aziraphale is his husband, now, so if he wants to spend the rest of his life seeking that warmth, that smile, then that’s just what he’ll do.

* * *

* It was important to both of them the whole affair be _secular_. Aziraphale and Crowley had agreed unanimously that She would not be invited to their wedding. [↑](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#top1)

** Living in London, they’d never really gotten to know their neighbors; the bustle of city life made it quite hard to do so. But in their little seaside village, they’d found it nearly impossible not to get to know the people living around them, and even make what might be described as _friends_. Might make it a bit awkward a decade, or two, or three, down the line, but they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it. [↑](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#top2)

*** He’s also got two: a matching silver wedding band, and a rose-gold engagement ring set with a ruby and two little emeralds on either side which Aziraphale said reminded him a little of an apple, where their story began. He only really beat Aziraphale to the proposal on a technicality. He insisted on being the one to pop the question, but the angel had a ring ready for him the same night he did. He was a bit put out about it at the time, but now he finds it endlessly endearing. [↑](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#top3)

**** Where they intend to honeymoon. They talked, and realized it’s one of the few places left on Earth the two of them have never been _together_. Their flight is in three days. [↑](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281991#top4)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading y'all !! pls feel free 2 stop by my [tumblr](https://lovesickcrowley.tumblr.com/) if ur into that !


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